


Brightness all

by acaramelmacchiato



Category: Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Dogs, Gen, mentor mentee stuff ooh, puppy dogs, seriously remember how wyldon breeds dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acaramelmacchiato/pseuds/acaramelmacchiato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wyldon gives Kel a puppy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brightness all

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SevenCorvus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevenCorvus/gifts).



 

When Kel opened a letter sealed with the arms of Cavall and addressed from her former training master, she laughed aloud to discover that the subject of the letter was puppies. The day was so cold that the wax cracked as she touched it, and even inside her laughter clouded the window next to her writing desk.

 

 _To be specific,_ Wyldon wrote, _there are five pups and four are promised. For the fifth, I am seeking an appropriate home and within a month. The lineage of these dogs, as you know, is cultivated precisely and I tell you unreservedly that they are of impeccable quality._

_I request that you write me within the week expressing your interest if you indeed are interested. I caution you finally that I shall not see my dogs sleep in the stables or the opposite, the kitchens. I do not do you the discourtesy of believing you would reduce such a proud article to a lapdog’s life. I pray you will inform me if you plan to disappoint._

 

In her reply she took care to sit closer to the fire, and to be polite without being excessively deferential. No longer a page, she did not owe Wyldon any sort of cowering or proof of mettle but on the other hand she wanted a puppy quite a lot and it was not expedient to anger him.

 

After some thought for structure, as she did not have the time or patience for drafts, she wrote:

 

_Sir,_

 

_I am pleased to hear from you and thank you for your exceedingly serious letter about puppies. As for the puppy in question I will gladly take him or her into my care which will protect her both from the privation of life in the stables and the vices of the kitchen. My lifestyle does not admit lapdogs as I am infrequently seated. Thank you again._

_Regards._

In two days she received a hastily-written letter from Neal accusing her of theft:

 

_I have been tearing down Wyldon’s door with requests for puppies for nearly three months and nothing’s come of it. I sent him a fine collar for one of his existing dogs ~~or possibly for himself~~ as a sort of gift to buy understanding and nothing came of that either. I accuse you of some sort of elaborate scheme to deprive my cold halls of that which is due them; young life, and promise, and a dog so my son will stop attempting to draw pictures of them and slip them under my door, ransoming my peace and happiness and solitude and study until I can meet his demands. Soon we will celebrate Midwinter and if I present no dog he will remember it on his deathbed._

_Your behavior in this matter has been outrageous and highly unseasonal._

_I have enclosed one of the drawings most recently executed by my tempestuous offspring who you will note is not yet of an age to fully comprehend the standard number of legs dogs have._

_Think critically about what you have done and write to me when you are contrite._

_Coldly,_

_Nealan of Queenscove_

 

She rode through the snow to Cavall to collect her dog, pleased with the edgeless, shimmering landscape and aching with the cold. She found Lord Wyldon relatively unchanged from their last meeting at court, though more relaxed since he was at home.

 

At the back of her mind she would always shiver when she met Lord Wyldon’s eyes.  As a child she had been very close to afraid of him, shaded with faint resentment.

 

Now it was simply very cold, and the world had been demystified; she was not a child and there was nothing so simple in her life as trying and failing to impress and then to please the training master.

 

She had long ago understood the simple revelation that he was a man and that at home he preferred dogs and old clothes, and it was possible his gait was uneven near the point of a limp. But still, there he was, and a part of Kel that had been slow to mature said, _it’s the Stump in his lair!_

 

He welcomed her with reserved warmth. There was a dog at his heels, eyes locked on his hands, and she knew with horrified certainty that Wyldon -- this training master, fort commander, and knight she had admired coldly on simple merits of skill and discipline -- was constantly prepared to slip dogs treats.

 

“I hope your journey was not unpleasant,” he said, and if he had been anyone else she would have suspected him of refuging discomfort in absolute blandness.

 

As it was, she could not parse his intentions as her father would have, so agreed with him and patted the dog on its head to demonstrate both her goodwill and her instincts of friendship with dogs.

 

In a moment Wyldon was handing her a puppy, which wriggled inconsequentially but stilled when it was fully airborne in his sword-scarred hands. It really was wonderful, warm where she was cold, downy and sweet-faced, and when she cuddled it to her chest Wyldon actually reached out to pat its head.

 

She wondered what she would have said of this scene as a page, with two black eyes and strained muscles up and down her back, wanting only to be left alone to sleep for a week. Wyldon, even then, had the core of a person who gave puppies to friends with no small amount of awkwardness.

 

“She really is perfect,” said Kel, looking at the puppy’s face and lifting up one of the paws in a useless gesture of evaluation. “Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?”

 

“A Midwinter gift,” said Wyldon, “for a friend.”

 

This took her by surprise. “I’m honored,” she said.

 

Wyldon shrugged with one shoulder, and seemed to share a glance with the adult dog who followed him. “Well,” he said. “As I said. All the others had been claimed.”

 

“I would only have been better-suited to this dog if she’d been a stray,” said Kel, and tucked the warm puppy in her arm.

 

“You are over-sufficient,” he said, and then after a full minute of silence he smiled, and put his hand on the puppy’s head again. “You know your friend Nealan has sent me four separate letters urging me to find you and give you the pup. She doesn’t have a name. Please choose something more appropriate than Jump or Peachblossom.”

 

“I’ll do my best,” said Kel, who had only yesterday torn up a letter from Neal which read only, _You are a complete monster and you had better not name that dog Jumpblossom_.

 

“You’ll do more than that,” said Wyldon, cautioning her. “Write me when you’ve chosen. Otherwise and in the meantime, be good to that dog.”


End file.
